Childhood Evanescence
by Silverneko9lives0
Summary: COMPLETEly Leroux based. Meg won't let Erik die and a somewhat forbidden romance takes place.
1. Chapter 1

_Leroux based. Erik wants to die, but only after three days, he wakes up, wondering why he's still alive and the shocking revelation that throws the infamous phantom off guard._

**Chapter 1: Little Giry's Resolution**

_Erik's POV_

Erik felt like he needed to open his eyes. _No…I'm supposed to be dead…why do I feel like living again?_ But the urge to awaken was too strong. Erik opened his eyes and looked around. He was still in his room, but now he could tell what awoke him; a fragrant smell of food, bacon, ham, cheese, wine.

_How was this possible?_ Erik got out and realized that his shirt was missing due to the draft flowing gently around his body. Looking around, he saw a fresh shirt and pants on a chair nearby. _That wasn't there before,_ Erik thought. Never the less, he put them on and headed out of the room.

Everything seemed out of place somehow. But not so much that he couldn't find anything. His opera was left untouched which he was grateful. But the uneasiness was too great to ignore, Erik began to inspect every inch of the labyrinth, finally going to the dining room where a little girl was placing things down on the table.

This girl was small in her frame and bony. Her skin was sickly pale and her hair was black as were her eyes. Her thin frame was not appealing, nor was it so sickly that it was horrible. More it was common, gentle and soft to the touch. Her hair was black and sleek, her eyes were a deep black and she had a hint of Asian.

She looked up and gasped, dropping a glass which shattered. She blushed and Erik snarled angrily at her.

"Who are you?" He demanded. The girl mumbled something under her breath. "Speak up!" Erik barked.

"Meg Giry, Monsieur. I'm sorry, I just…Chris—" She stopped when Erik tensed at the near mention of the name. "She said such horrible things and I…well…I didn't want you to die, Monsieur. I didn't want to see the Phantom just die, not yet." Meg said quietly.

Erik growled and the girl backed down a little bit. She couldn't be any older than thirteen or fourteen (AN: I have the picture that Meg is younger than we anticipate her to be, sorry if you disagree). "You are bold, _Little Giry_," he sneered. "But you should have just let me die in peace."

Meg shook her head, blushing again. "Many of the girls in the Opera have pictured you as one of the most amazing men ever to exist, despite the accidents and the rumors. Some are frightened, some have decided to stop believing in you; dismiss you as mere superstition. But I saw you around once in a while; when I should have been in bed, I would watch you haunt the opera house. I don't know why, but you strike me more of a great hero in a story; like Dracula."

"A book not for young ladies, Little Giry," Erik hissed.

"I don't care; I was reminded of Dracula whenever I saw you around the opera house," Meg said a little louder, a little bolder, than before. But the boldness was gone as soon as it had come; she blushed deeper and looked down at the floor.

Erik sat down and looked at the food she prepared. _What's the harm?_ He took a bit of the ham and took a bite. The taste was as heavenly as the smell. He ate all in his reach, realizing how hungry he was. After a few minutes, he felt eyes on him and looked at Meg with annoyance. She blushed again…

_Why does she keep doing that!?_

"Sorry. I was worried it wouldn't be that good," Meg said in her small voice.

Erik felt a sad feeling in his heart. Was it regret? Regret for the little girl sitting in the seat next to him? Why?

"I'm just not used to this; having someone…wait on me," Erik said. He kept eating, asking questions once in a while. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Three days, I came here as soon as you returned to the opera house; actually I waited for you to go to your bedroom before I started cleaning."

"Where is your mother?"

"She has been gone for a while now. On leave for a little bit. She won't be back until the end of the month. She thinks I'm with…_her…_but I told _her _that I'd rather stay on my own than be _her_ friend any longer. So, I came here; for the meantime, I have nowhere to go, Monsieur."

"Why would you want to stay here anyway?" Erik asked, finally getting to where he wanted to go with this game.

Meg blushed. "Well, I want to stay here because…I…I…Iwannaelpu." She mumbled.

"Speak up, Little Giry; not even the birds can hear you," Erik lectured.

"I want to help you; I want to help you see that not all people are terrible. I want to show you that not all people would use you to get what they want. That not all people fear you—I don't." Meg finished.

Erik stared at the child. Forgetting that he was eating, Erik stood and knocked the plate too the ground.

"YOU WOMEN ARE ALL THE SAME!!!" He shouted, glaring at the little girl. Meg seemed not to hear him…she stood and glared at him.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'YOU WOMEN?'" She cried. "WELL, YOU _MEN_ ARE ALL THE SAME AS WELL, MONSIEUR LE FANTOME!" Meg was trembling now, and Erik began to fear that she'd faint from the tremors. "I only w-wanted to help," Meg said, her voice beginning to break. "Why d-don't you want it?" She asked, hiccupping. "All women who love someone want to help them if they need it," Meg sobbed, going weak in her knees and falling to the ground.

Erik was at a lost at what to do. He never dealt with a woman crying the way Meg cried now. Erik knelt down and patted her back awkwardly. A second later, Meg grabbed onto him and sobbed into his chest.

Time seemed to stop as Meg sobbed herself to sleep. Erik, as helpless as a new born in the situation, just let her soak his shirt with her tears. Finally, she fell asleep and Erik picked her up with ease and carried her to the St. Louis room.

Erik then left and headed to find another shirt…a dry one. He sighed and wondered why he blew up like that. The little girl just wanted to show him with what he wanted Christine to show him.

_What can a child show me that she couldn't?_ Erik asked himself, looking at the door to the room which Meg slept in. Erik groaned and headed to the kitchen to pick up the ruined breakfast.

The sight on the floor made him clench his fist in frustration.

_What is happening to me? Do I, the Phantom of the Opera, feel sorry for a child who invaded my slumber into death? Damn her!_

Erik, none the less, picked up the spoilt food and thought about Meg's goal for the month.

_Stupid, little wench! She doesn't know how dangerous it is down here. How dangerous I am. Hero; me. HA! Yeah right! The only hero I can be is the tragic kind. Hell, I never saved anyone in my life! Except for myself. Some hero I would turn out._

Erik's thoughts soon turned back to Christine and he stopped cleaning the mess, pounding the ground in white hot fury, fresh tears coming down his cheeks. He removed the mask and tore at it. "DAMN YOU!!! DAMN YOU, CHRISTINE!!!" His anger subsided into the pain that would kill him one of these days. "Christine…" He moaned.

Three days ago, he declared that he was dying because of love; dying because of Christine. But now, he was cleaning his kitchen due to his new distrust of women, also because of Christine.

* * *

_Meg's POV_

Meg woke to heart breaking sobs. Her eyes were still red from the pain of Erik's words. She looked around and noticed that there was no door. Meg frowned and began to look for the door. Her fingers ran over a small nook and she pushed against it with all her strength. The sobs didn't reside, nor did they grow louder, but Meg still pushed against the wall until it opened on its own. Meg looked out cautiously and then tiptoed out to the kitchen; the sobs growing louder.

The Phantom loved Christine more than she anticipated, and this made her stomach churn.

_Jealousy is not good…I should know better. But, I can't help it; he deserves better than Christine. Maybe she hurt him so much that he couldn't believe me even if he wanted too._

Meg gently wrapped her arms around him and he pushed her away, his hand over his face.

"Don't look at me!" He shouted, glaring at her between the fingers; looming over her. Meg sighed and stood as well, looking up at his face, two feet above her.

"Monsieur, did you love her so much that you think that you wouldn't be able to find love again? Monsieur le Fantome, I really want to help you; at least try to help you. Please, won't you at least let me try?" Meg asked, looking rather innocent and oblivious to what she was saying.

The phantom looked at her and he lowered his hand. Meg gasped silently and began to shiver. The death's head stared right back at her. Everyone was right; the Phantom's face was the face of death. Meg turned her head downwards and clutched her arms, trying to calm the shivers.

"Now you know why I cannot accept your help; how can you help me if all anyone has done was reject me? I had hoped that Christine could show me the compassion that I was never shown. If she can't show me how, then why would you?" He snarled.

Meg gulped and looked back up at him. The Death's head was glaring back at her; daring her to speak. She dared, "I admit that I'm frightened, Monsieur. I admit that I am capable of hate; capable of rejecting you like everyone else has, but I am also confident that I might be able to help you anyway. Why I would help you is not clear to me, but please? Just give me a chance. Give me a chance to try."

The Phantom smirked and Meg shivered again. "Very well; I'll give you the chance. The month while you're mother is gone; you can attempt to 'help' me." Meg's eyes lit up and she smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Little Ballerina**

_Erik's POV_

Meg seemed to be a good teacher, despite her age; though the lessons were hardly professional. She listened to his life, how he was rejected his whole life; the good and the bad of it all.

She was appalled at the evil that he was shown. His mother was frightened of him; his father abused him; his subjection as a freak in the gypsy fairs; his time in Persia; his return to France; Christine.

Yes. Christine. It had become easy to say her name again, though still filled with the pain. A majority of the time, Erik spoke of Christine, not realizing the look Meg had on her face.

"Erik; I think that before I help you with everything else; you have to get over Christine," Meg said.

It had never occurred to him that he would have to forget Christine and he asked Meg about this.

"Not forget her; get over her. What I mean is, she hurt you the most so once you realize that it probably never would have worked out with her anyway, we can't move on to the rest of your life."

"Why is that?"

"Once I know what she did to break your heart, what she really did, we can probably figure out why you are the way you are," Meg explained.

This did not make sense to Erik, but he did as Meg said and spoke only of Christine for days, most of the time, he would break down and they would stop for an hour or two, then he would continue, feeling better after reliving the painful memories.

One day, he was able to recall the memories without too much emotion, without too much care. Meg seemed delighted by this, and claimed it was only because it had to be a sign of progress. By this point, the month was almost spent.

Meg seemed to want to help him. Her passion was very strong and when they weren't talking, she would practice her dancing for an hour or two before going to bed. Erik never really paid attention to Meg, though he knew she danced very well. She seemed to float on air when she danced and Erik did not notice the beauty of the dance before, but he did not admit that it was beautiful to anyone, not even himself.

The month was nearing to an end and Erik led Meg back up to the surface world; the world he was no longer apart of.

"Thank you, Meg."

"But I didn't get at all what I hoped to accomplish!" she cried, pouting slightly.

"Maybe not; but you accomplished more in a month than anyone could have in a year of this 'counseling.'"

This seemed to cheer Meg up. "I won't be able to be there as often as I was in the last month, but I can still come when I have the chance and help you out with everything else?"

Erik nodded and headed back down to his home.

_Meg's POV_

She could go back any time! Well…he didn't say she could at _any_ time, but when she had the time. To her, this meant any time.

"Meg!" Her mother rushed in and engulfed her in a hug. "I received news from the de Chagneys; telling me that you refused to stay with them! You weren't at the Jammes's either! Where were you?"

"I was with a friend you don't know about; he's a nice man and I was angry at Christine and I didn't want to stay with Madame Jammes and her daughter either. So I stayed with him and he kept good care of me; I'm fine, Mama," Meg said. It wasn't really a lie, but it wasn't truthful either. Meg was tearing at her insides.

"A man? Meg…"

"I'm ok, aren't I? He did nothing to me." Meg said boldly. Her mother sighed and dismissed the subject, but Meg knew that she had not heard the last of it.

When her mother was out for a while, Meg would go and talk to Erik. The more she got to know him, the friendlier he seemed to become. What a difference it made for him to talk to someone.

Erik wore his mask most of the time, though Meg began to get used to the hideousness of his face. Her childhood fantasies seemed to be coming to life, though Erik was not as handsome as Dracula, he was just as mysterious.

Though she learned of his past, she did not learn much of anything else about him. Meg wanted to know more, but she found it more difficult to tell him this. It was still a miracle for her to admit that she wanted to help him; to get to know him personally seemed more frightening than it ought to be.

Two weeks after her return to the surface, Meg began to practice with the other ballet rats.

_Erik's POV_

Erik never really cared for the dance all that much, but he watched the ballerinas rehearse more often under the instruction of La Sorelli. Most of them were not as pale nor as skinny as Meg and Erik had to wonder what it was about Meg that drew her to him.

Her love for the dark, her modest shyness….She said she was reminded of Dracula when she saw him. He read the novel when he was around her age, but why would she be compelled to read it? Most girls were more attracted to a handsome prince in fairy tales. But Meg…Meg fancied vampires.

He pushed the thoughts away and watched solely Meg. She was superb! Despite her tiny body, she danced with shocking grace. He seemed to loose himself in her dance. Erik did not blink, unable to tear himself away from the petite girl. She seemed to float on air. Erik began to recognize these…symptoms and he tore himself away from the little girl's dance.

He already went through too much pain to subject himself to rejection again. Erik stood and headed back to his layer underground.

Meg was still very young. She was a sweet child. Not quite attractive, but still…she was caring. Her heart was large. She was innocent.

Erik ended up to the lake unconsciously, walking into the water which tore him away from his thoughts.

_Damn! When will I learn to pay more attention to what I'm doing!_ Erik cursed inward, remembering the many times he had done this when thinking about Christine. He got inside his boat and took out a bag of oats, then went to feed Cesar. The horse was, other than Meg, his most trusted friend. Before he took Cesar, he would confide in the horse his hopes, his dreams. Even about Christine. But talking to Meg about Christine seemed to make things ten times better because a horse could only listen. Meg talked him through things.

Erik came to the conclusion that some part of him would always love Christine, but the rest of him he could devote to his opera, which he had started writing again.

Cesar looked at Erik accusingly as if saying, _"Where have you been? I've been starving for half a day!"_

"Sorry, Cesar, I've been preoccupied. And yet again, I almost fell in the lake again."

Cesar snorted and Erik could barely feel that the horse was mocking him. _"Next time, I'll push you in." _Cesar seemed to say. Erik seemed to get better at guessing the horse's thoughts. Cesar was a magnificent animal and Erik thought of the horse as more than just a pet.

He had once remembered a time when Cesar was a foul and the stables had caught fire due to a stableman's idiocy. It was Erik, who saved the horses, though he could not save Cesar's mother, he was able to get the beautiful foul out there. Once the horses were safe, Erik left a message in red ink to the stablemen and Gabriel, the Stable-Manager.

_The horses are safe. I advise you to sack those who smoke in the opera. A child's mother died this last night. OG_

It did not take long for Gabriel to see the meaning in the letter when he saw the state Cesar's mother was in.

Cesar ate the oats greedily and, once done, he nudged Erik with his snout and whinnied.

"You're welcome, old friend," Erik said, smiling slightly. "What do you think about the petite ballerina? Meg?"

Cesar nodded his head and whinnied again, as if to say, _"She's cute; also, she fed me whenever you weren't around to."_

"She's young, talented."

_"She's in love…with you."_ The horse thought. _"She told me."_

"She helped me get over Christine. She helped me see a side of myself that I never knew existed."

"_First stage of the second love; denial," _the horse thought.

Erik began to brush the horse, talking about Christine and Meg in equal, comparing them. The horse whipped his tail in Erik's face, and Erik laughed. It was a sound that he never truly mastered, but this time, it sounded clear and kind. Happy.

The sound stopped as soon as it had started, but it echoed off the walls. Erik had never laughed before, at least, not like that.

_It has to be Meg's doing!_ Erik thought, continuing to groom Cesar, frowning. _I can't fall in love again. I won't fall in love again. How can I? And on top of that, Meg is still very young. She is too young._

Erik finished brushing Cesar and rewarded the horse's patience with a lump of sugar.

Heading back to the lake, Erik got into the boat and rowed back to the layer. Once inside, he looked around. The rooms started looking larger without Meg there. The little girl had taken him.

Erik smiled and sat on the sofa, just thinking. He thought that the moment his mind was cleared, that his mind would turn to Christine. But instead, he saw the little girl dancing like a swan and he berated himself.

Erik growled and tried to get rid of the thoughts. Meg was too young. But then again… she saw him differently than anyone else did…

_Meg's POV_

Meg stopped rehearsing, her legs feeling numb and worn out, but even still, she seemed to dance to her dormitory. She was stopped by Sorelli.

"Well done, today, Little Giry. You did well."

"Thank you, Sorelli. Um, I could use some advice; is it safe to love someone many years older than you?" Meg asked.

Sorelli looked at Meg and her smile faltered. "Sometimes; but I've been a firm believer that love has no age. If you love someone very deeply, it doesn't matter where that love goes as long as you are with him in the end. But, be careful, Meg. Men can sometimes be deceitful."

"How so?"

"Sometimes, they fall for someone younger and prettier."

"I don't think he's like that at all."

"Even so, be careful," Sorelli said, then turned to walk towards her room, but stopped and turned to Meg. "I suggest you speak to your mother of this as well. I'm honored you spoke to me about this, but it is not my place. Before you do anything else in the matter, discuss it with your mother."

Meg nodded and Sorelli disappeared into her dressing room. Meg gulped. Telling her mother would be hard enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Love for the Dark**

_Erik's POV_

Erik let his fingers play over the keys. He was amazed at how much he had been getting done in _Don Juan Triumphant_. Anyway, he closed his eyes and turned to the beginning of his opera to wonder what else he wanted to happen. Playing the music took almost the whole day, but he began playing the next aria, which Don Juan would sing. Once the song was finished, he wrote the lyrics and he began to sing.

_A new day for a mission…  
Another sunrise in your heart…  
Give me tears of the wrong…  
The hate of convicts…  
Glamour of the damned…  
Rule of Benedict… _

I've never seen a dawn like this before…  
Tears of the night turn to diamonds in your eyes…  
In the face of the world's ugliness…  
Sister of charity remains a mystery…

Love shines over aggression…  
Another wound heals in your heart…  
Give me fears of the strong…  
The warfare politics…  
The decay of the west…  
Rule of Benedict…

I've never seen a dawn like this before…  
Tears of the night turn to diamonds on your eyes…  
In the face of the world's ugliness…  
Sister of charity remains a mystery…

Erik smiled. The song seemed to speak to him; seemed to tell him the story of his time with Christine and beyond.

The first verse was the love he felt for Christine. The chorus spoke of the pain he had to deal with his entire life and the changes he had to make all the time. The second verse was of the gratitude he felt for Meg.

Erik played the song again and felt the success. This song was more than just part of the opera; it was part of him.

_Meg's POV_

Meg went to her mother and sat next to her. "Mama, I need some advice," she started. Madame Giry sat up a little more and looked at her daughter. Meg took a deep breath, ringing her hands nervously. "I am in love. But he is older than me by many years. He has done nothing to provoke me into loving him, if that's what you're thinking, but I have loved him for many years now. And that love has grown just recently. You remember that man I was staying with?"

Madame Giry seemed to become livid and pale. "I remember, Meg. But you must be honest with me now. Who is he?"

Meg started and her heart began to beat faster. "I…I can't say, Mama. I know his name, but I cannot tell you for I know you would disapprove. But I already spoke with Sorelli and she told me that love knows no age, nor bounds."

"Sorelli is a wise woman in that area, Meg. But I have to know who this man is before I can say whether I support you or not."

"Mama—"

"You are still a child, despite what you may think, Meg. I worry for you. I don't want to see my little girl have her heart broken," Madame Giry said, looking at her daughter calmly. "The first love is always be the most painful, when the time comes for it to end. You think you've found the one, and then they find another they love even more and break your heart."

"Mama, he is the one who has suffered the worst of all heartbreaks. I do not know if it is possible for him to love me as much as he had loved his first."

Madame Giry looked at Meg and smiled. Then she threw the covers off of her and she walked over to a dresser. "Meg. Your father was several times my senior; I met him when I was living with my parents in Marseille. I was your age and he had been married before. His wife died in childbirth, as was his first born child. I began to spend time with him, spoke to him and learned of the ache any sort of love can leave if left unfulfilled. We became good friends and he took me in when my parents died. I came to Paris and, when I was old enough to marry, I gave him this," she held up a locket with a Lily engraved on it.

Madame Giry handed it to Meg. "It was a tradition in our family to give this locket to the man or women we wish to spend the rest of our lives with. We then explain the symbolism of the locket and conclude with these words: 'It must never be opened, for inside is my heart, which I give to you.' If they do not love you, they will not accept it, if they do, then they will take the locket and return it when they are on their bed. Then you say; 'I have given you my heart, and you have accepted and cherished it in our time together.' After that, you keep it until your child has met someone they wish to spend their life with."

Meg took the locket and admired its glow in the light. "You think I should tell him how I feel?"

"Yes, but don't offer the locket until _I _know that you can trust him," Madame Giry said.

Meg nodded and hugged her mother. "Thank you for understanding."

"I understand, but I do not support this and I won't until I know more about who he is."

Meg smiled and looked outside. Snow.

_Erik's POV_

Erik looked up from his music and looked at the entrance. Meg entered rushed to his side, a large smile on her face. "Monsieur, have you ever been in the snow before?"

Erik looked at her curiously. "I have, but not much. I've never really been able to appreciate it."

Meg's smile widened. "Then this will make the experience more enlightening! Come with me, Monsieur le Fantome!" Meg dragged Erik up to Apollo's Lair and Erik was shocked at the sight: the roof was covered in white powder.

Meg danced around, looking free and careless of all the pains of the earth. Erik walked into the snow and watched the flakes fall softly on the ground. Erik looked at Meg, whom had stopped twirling around and was watching the flakes fall just as he was.

"Have you ever seen, truly seen, Paris in winter, Monsieur? The ground covered in snow as children played and their parents watched. And lovers strolled in the park as the snow flowed gently to the streets, covering it in thick layers. I always enjoyed winter for it was the time when love was at its darkest."

"Why are you telling me this?" Erik asked, still taking in the sight of the snow and Meg's words.

Meg looked at him, her eyes shinning like obsidian crystals, her hair sparkling with the snow on it. "Because I love you."

Erik stiffened. He longed to hear those words, just not from Meg. "Meg…"

"What is your name?" Meg asked him. Erik clenched his fists.

"That is no concern of yours, Little Giry," he snarled. Meg sighed and stood.

"I just wanted to know. I mean, I love you and you address me by my name. Why can't I address you by yours?" She asked, the glow in her eyes dimmed as she looked at him. Erik began to feel guilt again.

_What is it with this child!?_

"Because I don't want you to know. It is not really my name."

"Why?"

"Because I never really knew my name. I gave myself a name by accident."

"It doesn't matter. I love you and I think I deserve the right to know your name, whether it is your true name or not."

Erik's lips curved into a snarl beneath the mask. _She is growing spiteful. I can hardly see any traces of the nervous little girl who disrupted my death rest over a month ago. Meg Giry, you are indeed a curious child._

He grabbed her by the arm tightly, and ripped off his mask, forcing her to look at him. "I am Red Death, The Opera Ghost, the Living Dead, and above all, I am Erik," He hissed.

_Meg's POV_

Meg stared at Erik for a moment, the death's head looked back at her and Meg gave him a small smile.

"Do you still love me?" He growled. Meg nodded. Erik let go of her and picked his mask up. "Why?"

"Because I cannot see myself with anyone else. I told you; I don't want a prince. I want Dracula. I want the darkness."

* * *

The song is called "Sister of Charity" by The 69 Eyes. thanks to all who reveiwed. Now if you wonder why i don't use disclaimers is because it's rather **_OBVIOUS _**that I don't own Phantom. Though I have met Erik once or twice and glomped him so many times that he won't go near me anymore...

Erik: HELP!!!

me: erm...yeah...you heard nothing...


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Flight from the Opera**

_Erik's POV_

Erik stared at Meg as if she had an extra head. Even after all he had told her, she was still willing to be with him.

_She is mad! How can she want someone as hideous as I am?_

"Meg, why me of all men? I am years older than you and you are destined to be an empress. Your mother hopes beyond hope that you will be Empress," Erik said calmly. "And besides, how can you expect me to be a proper husband? Remember what I am? _Who _I am!"

Meg nodded. "That doesn't mean that I can't love you, right? Everyone needs to be loved, Erik. I heard much about you, I even watched you as a child."

"You are still very much a child!" Erik exclaimed, trying to calm his temper. Meg looked away and watched the snow continue to fall. "Meg, you are to be an empress even if I have to introduce you to the Emperor myself!"

"But I _will _be an empress, Erik; the Empress of the Night, as I have dreamed all my life. I do not want to marry the Emperor of France! Just you! I have always loved you, even when I was too young to recognize love," Meg said.

Erik mumbled to himself and stared at Meg. A harsh wind started to blow and her cloak fanned out. She gave a cry and tried to grab the sides of it and wrap them around her again, almost falling back. She tried to turn her back to the gusts, but her cloak refused to wrap itself around her.

Erik groaned and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. She gasped at the chill of his deathly hands, and Erik wrapped his arms around cloak, forcing it to stay around Meg's small frame.

_Meg's POV_

When Erik grabbed her wrist, she was shocked at the numbness that filled her wrist in just seconds; the grasp was like death. But when he wrapped his arms around her, she felt content and secured in his embrace. Meg closed her eyes and smiled, resting her head on his chest.

"Thank you, Erik," she said, feeling warm despite the chill. Erik released her and she grabbed the edges of her cloak, wrapping it around her securely this time as they headed inside. Erik did not answer her, but led her back to the ballet dorms. Her mother was there, waiting for her.

"Go inside and rest, Little Giry," Erik instructed. "You've had a tiring day." He left. Meg entered the room and saw her mother.

"Well?"

"I told him," Meg answered. "He did not answer me, but I think he is still battling with his own heartbreak."

Her mother stood. "Meg, the Phantom predicted that you would be an Empress. Is it by any chance, the Emperor's son you spoke of?"

Meg shook her head and sat on a bed. "Mama, not all Emperors are of a nation," she said, barely audible to anyone as was her nature, a smile on her lips. Meg lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling with a dazed look on her face.

"Meg, you were seen on the roof with a man in black. Madame Jammes had informed me that he was quite tall and almost skeletal in build," Madame Giry said, glancing around nervously. "You were with the Phantom, weren't you?"

Meg sat upright and stared fearfully at her mother. "How did she—?"

Her mother stood and slapped her smartly. Meg fell back on the pillow, her cheek burning and tears coming to her eyes.

"Meg Annette Giry! How could you lie to me? 'He did nothing,' HA! He could have done anything! The Phantom has done horrible things to grown men, Meg, _men!_ He could have easily done the same to you!"

Meg tried to explain but her mother slapped her again.

"Do not leave this room, Meg," Madame Giry said blatantly, slamming the door with great force.

Meg fell back onto her pillow and sobbed. Her mother had never hit her before, lectured yes, but never physically hurt her.

Meg did not look up until two arms embraced her. She could never forget the freezing sensation of his hands…

_Erik's POV_

He had never seen Madame Giry so angry before, especially with her daughter. Once Madame Giry was long gone, he entered the ballet dorms and comforted Meg. When Madame Giry was about to enter the room, Erik picked Meg up and carried her into the hidden passageway leading from the ballet dorms to his house.

He was not far off when he heard a shriek and Madame Giry's frantic calls for her daughter. Erik did not stop but walked as fast as he could to the house on the lake.

He realized that people would search the whole opera house searching for Meg, so he went to Cesar and put Meg on the horse's back. He could hear shouts all around the opera now. It hadn't taken very long for people to start looking for Meg. He jumped onto Cesar and urged the horse to gallop at full speed. They couldn't go to the House on the Lake. It would be one of the first places Daroga would go when he heard of Meg's disappearance.

Erik forced the horse to gallop as fast as he could. As the sun rose, they had left the opera house far behind them and headed for the Paris Metro. The snow was crisp and white in the morning sun, looking like small crystals. Erik bought the tickets and let the engineers lead Cesar to a compartment where he would get fresh hay and rest.

"Where are we going?" Meg asked, feeling much better, though her cheek was still red from when her mother had slapped her.

"Metz," Erik answered shortly, leading Meg gently onto the train. "We can't stay in Paris."

Meg nodded and sat next to Erik as the train began to move. They were unable to get a room, but they were able to rest just fine as it was. Three days later, they got off the train and, after retrieving Cesar, looked around their new surroundings.

Metz seemed to stand out and was not as luxurious as Paris was, but still beautiful. None of this impressed Meg or Erik though. They stayed in the local inn for the night while Erik gave Meg some money to find herself some clothes and food while he looked for a flat for them to stay in.

Erik found a nice flat that would keep a roof over their heads for a while. When he finished purchasing it, he went to find Meg, wondering about his actions.

_Why did I do that? Why did I take her away from everything she ever felt content with? Why would I want to take her away anyway? I'm not falling in love with her, am I? No…I can't fall in love! Not again!!_

He found Meg exiting a shop with some packages. "I found a place for us to stay, shall we?" he said, looking at her. Meg nodded and he took the packages from her hands, leading her towards the flat he bought. Meg left for another room and began to change while Erik pondered over his dilemma of being a kidnapper…again.

_Well, there's not much I can do now anyway._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: the Sleeping Bud bursts into Bloom…**

_Meg's POV_

Meg got into her new bed and found it more comfortable than her bed at the Opera House was. She smiled and closed her eyes, sleeping soundly…

Sunlight streamed inside from her window and Meg awoke, momentarily wondering where she was. The previous days' events flooded back to her and she smiled. Getting out of bed, she set out one of her new dresses and washed her face. Looking into a mirror, she noticed something different about her look. She seemed to look…older. Was she growing up without even realizing it?

Shaking her head, Meg pushed her thoughts aside and began to dress. She was maturing, she new that, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to let go of her past. The opera was all she knew.

Once Meg had successfully gotten the dress on, she ventured out into the living room, Erik slept peacefully on the sofa, his mask slightly askew. Meg looked around and noted that there was no food in the kitchen, so she decided to wait for Erik to wake up before asking him what they were going to do for food…

_Erik's POV_

Erik woke and removed his mask, rubbing his small, barely visible eyes. Placing his mask back on, he looked around and saw Meg exploring the flat with boredom.

"Something wrong?"

"There's nothing to do. I was waiting for you to wake up. Not only am I bored, we have no food, Erik," Meg said, looking at him sulkily.

Erik studied Meg for a moment. Something seemed different about her today. She seemed to be in pain a little bit. He pushed his thoughts aside. "Alright; we'll go out for breakfast, then we'll go to the market and get some food. How's that?"

Meg perked up and nodded. Erik grabbed his cloak and he led her out of the house. The small café nearby wasn't as good as the one in Paris, but it was sufficient. They headed out to the market afterwards and Erik let Meg take over, though he did have to tear her away from the jewelry and shawls a couple of times.

Once they had finished their shopping, they headed back to their flat. Erik caught himself staring at Meg more. Angrily, he looked away. But after a moment, Erik wondered if it was wrong to look at Meg as such.

_She is…growing up, I guess. And I am over Christine, of course. So why do I feel horrid when I look at Meg as more than a friend? I…no…I can't fall in love again. It's still too soon. I love Meg, but I don't want to…I don't want to get hurt again._

"Erik?"

Erik turned back to Meg, and smiled under the mask. His smile vanished at the look she gave him; her expression was that of physical pain. "Yes?"

"I can't explain it, but I've been feeling strange all day. I feel sick…and in pain," Meg explained. She did not need to continue. Erik learned more than he would need to know over the years, especially while living in Persia with the Sultana. Though he never admitted it to Daroga, the Sultana would include him on…feminine needs.

At the time, he wondered why she would order him to go to the market and get her some…yeah…

"_Erik!!!"_

_Twenty year old Erik raced to the Sultana's room as fast as his legs could carry him. Once there, the Eunuchs let him enter and he looked at the Sultana's frustrated face._

"_Yes, your Excellency?"_

"_I need you to go to the—oh, damn it hurts—I need you to go to the market and get me some pads." _(AN: tried to find out what they were called in the nineteenth century; couldn't find anything, sorry)

_Erik gave her a funny look. "Pads, your Excellency?"_

"_Erik, don't tell me Daroga hasn't given you the Talk yet! This is the one time I do not need any of that!"_

"_But I really don't know what you're talking about, your Grace," Erik whimpered, cowering under the Sultana's ferocious glare. She could be really scary at times, despite her being only a couple years younger than him._

_She ignored him and threw him a bag of gold. "Just go to the market and ask one of the women to show you where to get the pads."_

He regretted that he even obliged to the Sultana's orders that day. The women he asked either thought that he was perverted, insane, or jesting. Finally, Daroga found him and explained what pads were, all the while laughing.

Erik had never felt so embarrassed in his life. Humiliated he had been before, but never so much as he was that day. It was the only time he actually felt good to need his mask.

"Erm…Meg, you're mother did talk to you about…uh…feminine stuff, didn't she?"

Meg nodded. "She never explained how painful it would be though."

"OK, erm…find a woman who can help you. I'm just going to…wait here with the food," Erik instructed, taking the other bags from Meg, handing her a few francs, and standing against the wall.

_Meg's POV_

She wasn't sure what Erik was saying until he mentioned her mother talking to her about periods. For sure her mother was unable to describe how painful it could feel. Any moment, she was going to throw up; she could feel it.

Meg ran into a woman and she asked the woman about where she could find anything to help her with her period. The woman kindly directed Meg where to go and moments later, Meg was leaving the store in a slightly better mood, but the abdominal pain had intensified.

She rushed to get back to Erik. Wanting to get back to the flat as soon as her legs could carry her, Meg quickened into a run. The pain subsided a little, but she felt weaker than before.

Swooning, her vision blurred and someone ran over to help her before everything went black…

Meg woke up in her room at the flat. She sat up and looked around, there was a wash tray and a cloth slid off her forehead. The door opened and Erik came in with a tray. On the tray was a bowl of steaming soup. Meg scooted herself into a more comfortable position as Erik placed the tray on the table. His mask hid the beauty that only she could see.

Yes. To Meg, Erik was abhorrently beautiful. His face was hideous to others, but she believed that past the face was a good man. She wanted to prove that if given the chance, Erik could be a civilized member of society. More so, he could be her husband. It was all Meg could dream of.

"Thank you, Erik." Meg said sweetly. Erik looked at her and she saw a glint of yellow behind the eye holes of his mask. Meg smiled at him and Erik stood.

"You are very welcome, Mademoiselle Giry," he said playfully, bowing a little bit. Meg laughed and he exited her room.

Meg took the soup and began to eat, thinking of Erik's…unusual behavior. Could Erik be changing into what she hoped to present him as? Meg knew that he was joking, but she believed that that didn't matter much; he was warming up to her, even if he wasn't warming up to other people around him.

_Erik's POV_

Erik lay on the couch and picked up the book he was reading. _Les Miserable_. He was almost finished, though he didn't like the story much. Despite this, Erik couldn't help but finish the story any way. He was almost finished as it was.

_Les Miserable_ was about a convict who takes in a child. The child grows to be beautiful and a young man falls in love with her. The young man doesn't trust the convict and steals her away, only realizing that the convict was a good man too late.

Erik finished and set the book aside. Looking at the grandfather clock, he got up and knocked on Meg's door.

"Come in," Meg called. Erik opened the door and saw that she was just getting back into bed, her clothes lying on the chair near the window.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "I was…worried, when you fainted."

Meg gave him a troubled look. "I'm sorry, Erik. I didn't know I'd be this bothersome."

Erik sighed and sat on the edge of Meg's bed. "Don't think that you're a bother, Little Giry," he said. "Like Cesar, you are a dear friend of mine."

The moment the words left his lips, Erik felt that he might have spoken to quickly. Meg's usual cheerful look darkened and she looked down.

_Oh, Erik, you fool! You did it now!_

"Just a friend? Is that all I am, Erik?" Meg asked in a small voice.

"Well…I mean…I really care for you…but…"

"I'm going home," Meg stated, getting out of bed and grabbing a newly acquired bag, packing all her new clothes in it.

"Meg, be reasonable; no one is going to allow a young girl walk alone. Especially with ruffians about at this hour."

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Meg said bluntly. "You tell someone that you love them and all that can happen is that they really don't care at all. They pretend they do, but they don't!"

"Meg, listen to me—" Erik demanded, grabbing her shoulder harshly. Meg yelped and a glint of gold fell out of her pocket. Erik let go of Meg and she backed into a corner.

Erik knelt down and picked up the locket. "Meg…where did you get this?"

When she did not answer, Erik turned back to her and saw her kneeling on the ground, sobbing.

_Meg POV_

Reality was on her doorstep. She could feel it. And she was frightened. She felt her air tighten around her and a shadow cast over her. Erik.

She pushed him away. "Get away from me!" She shouted. He obeyed, but she could read the shock in his actions. Meg paid no heed as she ran out of the flat. Erik didn't follow. She half hoped he would.

"_Meg, sleeping buds burst into bloom every spring. Soon, winter will be over for you. You will become a flower."_

Her mother had told her this on her birthday. She was excited by this when she first heard it, but now that she was blooming, she was scared. She wanted to go home; back to opera.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Kidnapped and Rescued**

_Erik's POV_

Erik stared dumbfounded at where Meg had been. Looking out the window he snarled and grabbed his cloak.

_Stupid, idiotic, unprepared, childish, little…_

Erik's thoughts stopped there. He couldn't think of scolding Meg now. He was too occupied in looking for her to think of anything but engulfing her into an embrace and thanking God Almighty that she was safe…if there was a god.

And if she was safe…

"Erik!"

Erik stopped in his tracks before falling to the ground, his stomach giving way to the bullet that hit him.

Erik clenched his teeth and leaned backwards, clutching his stomach. The dim light showed him that the attacker was...

_Meg's POV_

Someone had grabbed her once she had reached the café that she ate at two days prior to the events that occurred moments ago. She tried to scream, but he covered her mouth and took out a gun, aiming it at a certain figure in the darkness. She pulled the hand over her mouth down and tried to run to the figure.

Her attacker pulled her back and she screamed for Erik. The figure turned toward them and the attacker fired.

The figure fell to the ground, groaning.

"Erik. I didn't think we'd meet again. Even after that publication in the Époque," the man said. His French accent was rich and in the dim light, Meg recognized Raoul de Chagney. "Come on, Meg. Your mother has been dreadfully worried," Raoul said.

Meg pulled against him, screaming and crying, reaching out for Erik, who lay on the ground, beaded with sweat due to the pain. His mask had fallen off and broke in two.

Finally, she broke free of Raoul and ran to Erik's side. She could hardly see the deformity in the light. Meg cradled Erik in her arms.

"I'm sorry…Erik, I'm sorry!!" Meg screamed. Raoul grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her from Erik. "Let me go, you monster! LET ME GO!!! ERIK!!!"

Meg was dragged to the Vicomte's carriage and forced inside.

"Let me out!" Meg shrieked, hitting Raoul's chest with as much force as she could muster.

"Meg! Stop acting like a brat. It's better if he's dead this time," a feminine voice lectured. Turning to the speaker, Meg glared at Christine.

"Let me out, bitch!" SMACK! Meg fell back, clutching her cheek. "I hate you," Meg hissed. Looking at Christine, she attempted not to feel regret for the words. The carriage began to move. "I hate you with all my heart and soul. I hate you for breaking Erik's heart. I hate you because you're so dimwitted. I hate you because you could have been the end of him. Maybe you never cared for him; but I love him. If he dies, so will I."

_Erik POV_

Erik woke his face was covered with a cloth. Sitting up, he saw someone he didn't expect to see ever again.

"So, you were dying, aren't I right? That is what you told me; dying from a broken heart," Daroga said. His face was livid.

Erik ignored him and let the memories rush back to him. "Daroga, I need to find Meg—"

"Out of the question."

"Daroga, I get it: you're mad. But this can wait until I know where Meg is."

"Erik—"

Erik grabbed Daroga by the collar and pinned him against the wall. "Where is Meg Giry, Daroga?"

"The De Chagney's took her back to Paris," Daroga said, surprised that, even with a bullet just recently extracted from him, Erik could display such strength. He knew that Erik was strong, but not this strong.

Erik released Daroga and stormed out of the flat, running to the stables in which Cesar was resting. Erik grabbed a saddle and bridle and got Cesar ready before jumping on the stallion's back and riding after the De Chagney's carriage.

_Meg's POV_

The ride was silent, but Meg's hatred was diminished into anguish for Erik. He was dead. All because of her. She knew what she would do when she returned to Paris.

Meg fought tears as the carriage rode on.

"Don't worry, Meg, dear, we'll be back at the Opera house soon," Christine said. "I bet you've missed your mother terribly."

Meg tried not to hit the brainless ditz.

The carriage stopped and Meg looked out the window. They were still on the road.

"I told them not to stop until we reached Paris," Raoul growled, getting out of the carriage. He didn't come back.

_Erik's POV_

Erik let Cesar eat the grass as he eased the carriage to a halt. The door opened and Raoul exited. Erik got down from the driver's seat and faced Raoul.

"You're still alive?!" Raoul shouted. Erik gave him his maniac smile and brought out a long rope.

"Is she in there?" Erik asked seriously, though he looked crazier than usual.

"You can't have her!" Raoul shouted, unsheathing his sword.

"Are we talking about the same woman, Vicomte? I speak of Meg Giry."

"It does not matter who you speak of; you can't have my wife or Madame Giry's daughter."

"I believe that Mademoiselle Giry came on her own accord. She needed time away from her mother. I gave her that time."

"Her time is well spent, Monsieur," Raoul shouted, lunging for Erik.

Erik dodged Raoul with ease and looped that lasso around Raoul's neck. With a powerful tug, Raoul fell to the ground, tearing at the noose. Erik dragged Raoul to one of the horses and tied the end of the rope to the Horse's girdle (AN: what is that thing that ties the horse to the carriage? I don't think it's the girdle, but maybe it is…). Once done, Erik took a rock and hit the horse with all his strength. The horse whinnied and galloped off at high speed, dragging Raoul along with it.

Erik turned around saw Meg staring at him, shocked. Christine cowered behind Meg. Meg took a few steps closer.

"That will kill him, Erik," Meg said. "It wasn't an accident."

"None of the mysterious deaths at the Opera House were accidents."

Meg walked passed Erik to Cesar. "Why must you be so violent?" Meg asked, looking at him sadly. "I know you hate them. I do too, but that is no reason to kill him in a way which everyone would realize it was you. Also; you have witnesses, Erik. What are you going to do about that?" Meg asked, climbing on Cesar.

"I'll face what ever comes my way," Erik reassured her. "I always have." With that he climbed up behind her.

"Erik," Meg said, looking at him. "Thank you for rescuing me." Erik smiled and turned Cesar around, heading back to Metz.

Erik didn't remember that they left one witness who would surely bring this vanishing innocence to an end.

* * *

Sorry for the long updates, 1) school is crashing down on me, 2) I almost have no time anymore, and 3) I really appreciate reviews just to know how people think about the story. If some of you are getting a bit bugged that Erik is a little OOC (I think he's getting a touch out of character here), I sincerely apologize and I'm sure we all liked the Raoul Bashing (Woo!!!).

Also, I would like to thank Holly for the info on what women were supposed to do during their TotM.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: If We Never Met **

Sorry…this chapter's a mini soap opera…actually; I thought it was pretty cute, I didn't think it would end out this way (it kind of ended out sounding very similar to Piper and Leo's relationship from _Charmed_. I love their relationship and how they'd break the rules just so that they can be together. Especially in the episode in season six when they were trapped together in an alternate dimension and Leo admits as he was dying that he never stopped loving Piper even though they were divorced, that leads up to other things which bring about the existence of their second son, Chris.)

_Erik's POV_

Meg fell asleep on the ride back home. Yes. Metz was their home now; at least, it was his. Erik didn't think he would return to Paris any time soon.

But as he slowed Cesar to a trot, Erik knew that Daroga wasn't going to approve of this, but he didn't care. Meg was precious to him. He'd give his life for her. For once, he realized what love really was; caring for someone enough to lay your life down for.

Erik listened to Meg's steady breathing and smiled to himself.

_God, if I have a purpose, than I hope that Meg is part of my purpose_, Erik prayed, looking at the star filled sky. _I can't avoid it anymore. I love her. I love Meg. I thought that I could only love Christine, but Christine was just a phase, a phase that almost killed me. If you are up there God, thank you for sending Meg to me. Is love the act of taking risks for those you care for, even if they could cost you your life? If so, than I believe that I can lay my life down for Meg if I have no choice in order to protect her. I was lost God; I wasn't sure who I was for the longest time. Now I know. I am Erik. Not the Phantom of the Opera, not Red Death, not the Trap-Door Lover, just Erik. Again, thank you._

Erik looked back at the road and saw that the rays of daylight were beginning to shine down, signaling the approach of dawn.

_Meg's POV_

Meg woke as soon as it began to lighten up. The blood dripped from between her legs onto the seat, but Erik didn't seem to notice, or he didn't care. Meg looked up at Erik and smiled. His mask broke, but he couldn't have looked more human than anyone else in the world at that moment.

Meg wondered what had happened to her. She knew that she had changed somehow. Maybe it was because she wasn't sure what she wanted to do with her life before hand. She just thought that she was going to be a dancer and a parent like her mother was, working at the Opera House. Meg laid her head on Erik's chest.

_It must be Erik_, she thought. _It has to be…_

"Meg."

Meg looked up at Erik; his eyes glinted as softly as they could. Even so, Meg's heart fluttered. "Yes?"

"I love you."

(AN: I could just leave it here, but you all would come after me with spears)

_Erik's POV_

He said it, but it wasn't enough, at least not to him. "Meg, there are going to be people who are going to try to tear us apart, just like the de Chagney's tried to do. An acquaintance of mine might be able to help us, but it will take a lot of convincing. He can hide us, but your mother will be the one who tries to stand in our way the most. Even so, that's not going to stop me from loving you."

By now, tears were sliding down Meg's cheeks.

"I thought…I thought I was just a friend," she said, choking on sobs.

"So did I, until the de Chagneys took you," Erik explained, wiping away her tears. "I don't regret meeting you. I'm glad you came. I want you to know that if they discover me and if I die—"

"Erik, please, don't talk like that," Meg whispered.

"IF I die, Meg, know that I will never regret the time I spent with you."

_Meg's POV_

She didn't know that Erik would admit this as soon as he did. She didn't even expect him to tell her that he was glad that she came. When she told him she wanted to help him, he exploded in her face.

"I guess, we'll just have to fight back when they come after us, won't we?" She asked.

Erik wrapped one arm around her, the other holding onto Cesar's reigns as they rode into Metz. People would stop and stare at Erik, but for once he didn't care.

* * *

Another thanks to Holly for the information! Till the next update...maybe 


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Hope to Gain**

_Meg's POV_

Meg and Erik were urged inside by none other than the Persian, the one with the Evil Eye that was so often seen at the Opera. "What were you thinking, Erik?" He hissed, handing Erik a mask. "Did you not see them? They were staring at you. Haven't the years of…of learning that you can't be accepted by them taught you anything?"

Meg stared from Erik to the Persian, wondering how they were connected. Erik gently lowered the Persian's raised hand with the mask.

"I have learned that there are many people who will find me hideous, but I also learned that there is going to be at least one person who will accept me as I am. And I love her, Daroga."

The Persian, or Daroga, looked at Erik then slowly down at Meg. Meg curtsied the best she could without sucking in a breath due to the abdominal pain.

Daroga's eyes seemed to widen and he sat in a recliner chair. "Dear Allah, Erik, not again, do you ever listen to your own vows? You vowed to never love again."

"I'm not above human emotion, Daroga. Meg has told me that she loved me long before I loved her in return."

Daroga rubbed his temples. "This is madness."

"Is it really?" Meg asked. Daroga and Erik turned to her. "I believe that God died for us so that we can have a second chance at life. He wasn't deformed like Erik, but he was even more so an outcast than Erik was. God loved us enough to send his son to die for us. If I was certain that God would grant my one wish, it would be that those who are shown no mercy would find it somewhere. Many people ask for things that are useless if you think about it. As for me, I only asked that I could be the one who would reach out to the oppressed. I want them to know that God never abandoned them."

Daroga began to laugh. "You are a foolish girl. No one would listen to a young woman."

"Unless," Erik said, his face reflected his thoughts. "Unless, Meg's voice multiplies, no one will listen. But if we get people to care about what happens to the oppressed, then we can convince people to open up their eyes to reality."

"It is madness!" Daroga shouted.

_Erik's POV_

Erik didn't know where this sudden calmness came, but as Daroga shot down Meg's hopes, Erik stood. "I'm not asking you to understand, Daroga. Just to be open to the possibility that it can be done."

"That's the thing, Erik. First you come here telling me that you and a young woman are in love, and then that the two of you could possibly pose as an example to others. How do you plan to do this? How can you expect to provide for her? You can't keep her locked underground."

"I don't intend too," Erik countered. Daroga grabbed Erik by the collar and dragged him into another room.

"What do you think you are doing? Are you mad? I thought you would have learned that people will kill you if you kept up like this," Daroga shouted.

Erik grabbed Daroga by the shirt collar, "Will you listen for once!? What goes through your mind every day? What makes you think that I can't be loved? Yet here I stand, truly loved by someone for once! I knew you wouldn't approve, but you're usually not so stubborn to my decisions!" Erik shouted, but his voice lowered to a growl. He let go of Daroga and sat on the closest chair.

Daroga started to laugh. "I always listen, Erik. I worry about you and the people in contact with you. I know that you are cared for, though you may not know it. Actually I was shocked by Mlle. Giry's statement. I'm stubborn because in a sense, you're my brother." (AN: metaphorically speaking that is, come on! Daroga was able to keep Erik's profile low over the years).

Erik looked at Daroga and smiled. "It comforts me to know that I have a brother, some-what. So you give in?"

"I guess so. It's not like I can really win when you put it the way you did earlier."

"So you will help?"

"Fight oppression of the poor? No. There is nothing I can do there. I am Muslim, Erik. No one will listen to me especially. But I will keep this affair of yours secret."

"It is hardly secret any more; the Phantom and the Dancer. Meg's mother knows, Mme and Mlle. Jammes, the de Chagney widow," Erik paused. He forgot that Christine saw him kill her husband. She was bound to lead a mob to Metz.

"The de Chagney widow?" Daroga asked, paling. "Erik, did you kill the Vicomte?"

"Yes…I did…" Erik whispered. He stood and headed toward the door.

"Erik, you and Meg can't just flee."

"Why not? We already fled Paris."

"You will get caught eventually, and even if you don't, you would have to flee France all together just so that you and Meg can live without fear. Live in a place that is unfamiliar to Meg or yourself."

"I adapt easily."

"Erik, think about Meg? Yes, she was able to adapt to Metz, but Metz isn't another country, Erik. How can you be sure that since Meg can adapt to another city, that she can adapt an entirely different country?"

_He's right,_ Erik thought_, Meg might not be able to understand America or Spain like I would. I have to let this go. It's time I stopped running._

"Alright, Daroga. We'll rally Metz to stand against Paris."

"Erik, getting others involved is not the answer either. I'm sure that people here will be touched by your passion, but I doubt that it will be enough to face a mob," Daroga reasoned.

Erik opened the door and headed back to Meg.

_Meg's POV_

Meg watched Erik come out and he gave her a small smile. "Shall we head home?" He asked. Meg nodded.

She let Erik lead her back to their flat. Something was wrong; she could feel the tension around Erik as they walked. He said nothing as they climbed the stairs.

"Erik, what is wrong?"

"Christine is still alive. I should have at least made her loose her memory if not kill her. She's probably gathering a mob as we speak," Erik explained.

Meg took a breath and exhaled.

"Beauty and Beast shouldn't give up," Meg turned to the speaker. A little girl looked at them from behind a pole. "If Beast dies, than Beauty won't be able to live. Beast has to become the prince."

Meg looked at Erik. His face was expressionless.

"You are not frightened?" He asked the child.

She shook her head. "I know that Beast is really a prince under a spell. The fairy did this to him."

Meg kneeled and looked at the child. "What is your name?"

"Carressa," she answered. When Meg tried to get a closer look at Carressa, the child ran off into her flat. Erik and Meg headed back to their own flat. All the while, Meg wondered why the child would call them such. Beauty and Beast…Meg did go to Erik voluntarily, but not because her mother was threatened by Erik. She went because she wanted to see Erik's legacy live on at least a little while longer.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: One day More**

_Erik's POV_

Meg went to sleep soon after. He didn't blame her. He was tired himself. He checked his pockets before heading to bed and pulled out a chain with a locket. A lily engraved into it.

_Right…_Erik thought when he remembered. He decided to ask Meg about it in the morning.

_Meg's POV_

The sun light poured in and Meg woke reluctantly to the demands of the day. She rose and sat up in her bed. Erik knocked at the door, and she bade him enter.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he teased. He seemed more cheerful than he did yesterday. "Care to explain this locket?" He held up her family heirloom and Meg yawned, knowing that she was too tired to explain it perfectly.

She decided to try though, "Well, it's a family heirloom. On my mother's side," Meg realized that this was her chance. She stood and faced Erik. "The locket is given to the man or women a member of my family wish to spend the rest of their life with. If the receiver does not accept their love, they must give it back. If they return their feelings, they keep the locket until their dying breath. Erik, I want you to know that it must never be opened, for inside is my heart, which I give to you."

"And I shall cherish this heart that belongs to my lover and my wife to be," Erik answered poetically, placing the locket around his neck, then the mask that Daroga left for him. "Forgive me, mon Cherie, but I feel more comfortable this way." Meg nodded and they headed out into the streets.

Carressa ran to them and hugged Meg, then Erik. The child wore a white blouse, black vest and a very colorful skirt. She was barefoot.

"Carressa, who are your parents?" Meg asked, looking around the crowd gathered around a young performer whom she seemed to be with moments before.

The young gypsy boy from earlier said, joining them. "I am Carressa's brother, Jean, or le Saphir, if you wish. Forgive me, but the Persian informed me of the two of you and what you want to do."

"Why would you want to help us?" Meg asked.

"Carressa insists. She is a child in a world of fantasy, she lives in the legends and stories that our father told her. Her favorite was always _Beauty and the Beast_, but I guess you found out already," Jean answered.

"They'll be here in one day's time," another gypsy shouted at Jean. "I saw that mob on my way here, Jean. What do you say?"

_Erik's POV_

_One day more,  
Another day, another destiny,  
This never ending road to Calvary_

_I did not live until today,  
And yet with her, my world has started._

Erik knew now that there would be no other choice. They would have to face the mob. "Jean, how many in the city are willing to help?"

Jean smiled. "I've been getting as many vagabonds to help. They're the only ones who will help. The other inhabitants will most likely join the mob, but there are many of my kind."

"Thieves?" Meg asked, her face paling a tad. Jean shook his head.

"We aren't cruel, Mlle. In fact, we are more than just thieves. Performers as well. We do what we can to survive, but we don't kill people unless we have no other choice." _  
_

_One more day before the storm!  
At the barricades of Freedom!  
When our ranks begin to form, _

_One more day till revolution,  
We will nip it in the bud!  
We'll be ready for these schoolboys,  
They will wet themselves with blood!_

Jean grabbed a box and stood on it. Erik finally noticed that there was a crowd of outcasts forming around them. "These people have been shown no mercy as we have. Shall we welcome them?" The crowd of young boys and girls shouted in agreement. "Our families are poor and we have been casted out of our homes for what we are! But at dawn tomorrow, we will redeem ourselves!"

"Le Saphir! Who is coming?" One boy asked

"A Mob from Paris!"

"What about the elders?" A girl asked

"They are too old, they can't fight like they used to be able to. What will we do?"

_  
"Watch'm run amuck,  
Catch'm when they fall,  
Never know your luck  
When there's a free for all,  
Here a little pinch,  
There a little touch,  
Most of them are goners  
So they won't miss much!"_

Erik pulled Jean down from the box/podium. "You can't just lead these children to fight full grown men," he lectured. Jean pried Erik's hands away.

"We heard of a gypsy boy who traveled the world years ago. He served the Sultana of Persia when he met the Persian and ended up having to flee Persia, his name was le Ossature, or Erik. We look up to him because he went through much more than we did, and yet, he was strong."

Erik stared at Jean for a moment, and then looked at Meg. Erik turned back to Jean.

"Le Ossature? The Skeleton? Why was he called so?"

"He was deformed at birth, I think. They called him the Living-Dead Boy, but when his fame increased after he left the Caravan he was part of, legend renamed him le Ossature," Jean explained. "He fought men twice his age and always overthrew them."

Erik dragged Jean by the collar away from the crowd. "Who told you all of this?"

"The Persian."

"Jean; _I _am le Ossature. I am Erik," he hissed to the boy. Jean smirked.

"Then we will definitely win!"

"Jean…"

"You will help us, won't you?" Jean asked. Erik sighed.

"Fine, but don't let the women get involved. Especially my Meg."

"The women can fight."

"That's not what I'm worried about. These men won't let you live because you're—"

"I don't need lectures. I just want to fight and win if I can." Jean shouted.

_Meg's POV_

_One day to a new beginning  
Raise the flag of freedom high!  
Every man will be a king  
There's a new world to be won  
Do you hear the people sing?_

Carressa hid behind Meg as they waited for Erik and Jean to return.

They came out, and Erik stood on the podium. "How many of you are truly willing to loose your lives if you must?"

The crowd shouted in acclamation.

"Are you willing to be led by le Ossature if he makes an appearance?"

The crowd screamed their answer. Erik sighed; these children were going to their deaths. They did not know that they were going to die following him.

"Who are you?" One girl shouted. Her hair was red and her eyes were like flames. "How can we be sure that you are who you claim to be?"

Erik removed his mask and the crowd silenced. "I am le Ossature, did you expect a young man? We all grow old. Already half of my life is spent and yet I hold myself responsible for bringing this upon you."

"LaIncendie," a boy asked the red haired gypsy. She said nothing, but took out her dagger and raised it high, in salute.

_One more day to revolution  
We will nip it in the bud  
We'll be ready for these schoolboys_

Meg watched this with amazement. She smiled; she knew that Erik was greater than he knew himself to be. She knew this legacy shouldn't die just yet.

Meg went to Erik when he had finished his speech, yet he didn't convince anyone to back down, as he seemed to try to do.

"Like you; they are stubborn," Meg said to him. Erik groaned and rubbed his forehead.

"Idiotic children," he cursed. Meg shook her head.

"Just one day left, Erik. One day until they arrive,"

_Tomorrow we'll discover  
What our God in Heaven has in store!  
One more dawn  
One more day  
One day more!_

Erik sighed, "I guess I couldn't order them to back down and face them alone."

"They look up to you," Meg stated. "I don't blame them. I have faith.

* * *

Sorry it took so long...school is evil!!! anyway, the lyrics are only bits from the song _One Day More_ from Hugo's _Le Miserable, _the song is from the musical, but it really fits...yeah... 


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: The World Will Know!**

_Meg's POV_

The day progressed slowly. As Erik developed strategies with Jean and the others while Meg watched Carressa perform.

Everyone came to hear the little girl sing. One song caught every bystander's attention; making everyone stop to watch.

"Is this your first time hearing the sweet tunes of la Flavia?" A woman asked Meg. She nodded, assuming that Carressa was la Flavia. "She lives with her brother, le Saphir, the Gypsy Prince. Their caravan was where the former Gypsy King lived."

"Gypsy King?" Meg asked the woman.

"They call him le Ossature, I think. He disappeared before they declared him their king. Le Saphir was so much like him in personality that they put him in charge until le Ossature returned."

Meg wondered if Erik knew that he was looked up to so much before now, she headed away from Carressa's performance and ran into the red haired Gypsy, la Incendie. "You are le Ossature's lover?"

Meg nodded. La Incendie led her towards a carriage. "You aren't a gypsy, but I was told that you can dance."

"Yes, but I don't—"

Incendie threw a blouse, a black vest and a red skirt at her. "We'll have some work to do if you're to be known as la Ivoire,"

_Erik's POV_

Jean learned how to use the lasso quickly, and the others worked on their aim with pistols and daggers. The younger gypsies would go and do their jobs, whatever that may be.

Incendie came out, a new gypsy behind her. "Saphir, due to certain circumstances, I won't be able join the battle tomorrow, so I'll stay around with Meg," she placed her hand on Meg's shoulder. Erik doubled around.

Meg looked exactly like one of the gypsies around him. Her hair was tied back by a red and gold cloth. Her new attire included a long red skirt, a white blouse which was supported by a black vest similar to the other girls.

"Fine by me, take it easy Incendie," Jean called to her. Once the girls were gone, Erik turned to Jean.

"Care to explain?"

Jean snickered. "Incendie got her name because she was caught in a fire before she joined us. Her leg is terribly burnt and it limits her ability, but she makes excellent predictions."

"Ah…a psychic," Erik said, impressed.

"Yeah. She's one of the oldest of our group, besides me of course," Jean said, throwing the lasso around a dummy shaped like a person. The lasso tightened around the torso.

"The neck, Jean, aim for the neck," Erik corrected, demonstrating again. Jean growled and tried again. Erik left him to work on it, checking on the other gypsies. He wasn't sure if this was right.

Erik didn't understand these children; why would they want to follow. He looked towards the sky and noticed that it was nearing sunset.

* * *

Need some more reviews people...sorry for the long update 


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Duel in the Square**

Sorry for the long update. I've been waiting for some reviews, which never came. So I guess those who love this story are waiting to see how it ends...understandable...here's chap 11!

_Erik's POV_

The night was slow. Incendie and Meg were talking deep into the night, to restless to sleep. As for Erik, he sat on the couch, waiting the light of dawn to signal the beginning of the battle. If it could be called a battle.

Erik stood and began to pace the room, trying to think of a way to get the gypsies out of it. The only conclusion was that they would join him whether he liked it or not.

The sky began to lighten and Erik grabbed his mask and Punjab Lasso. He left the flat and was soon met up with Jean.

"What do you think will happen your sister if you die?" Erik reasoned.

"Carressa knows how to take care of herself, and there is Incendie," Jean said, pushing aside his attempts to convince Jean otherwise. Erik tried again, but Jean again counteracted it. "My parents don't give a damn about me or Carressa, even when we joined the gypsies to provide for them."

_Damn, _Erik thought_, this is more difficult than I thought. _

The streets were filled with gypsies, seemingly doing nothing in the early morning to the eyes of an ignorant bystander. The as soon as the town began to wake up, a large group of men and women came marching in, shouting out for the Phantom of the Opera to come out of hiding.

As the mob searched houses and alleyways, they were silently being taken out by gypsies.

Finally, some of the younger mobsters came toward Erik and Jean. Jean took one out with his dagger and another with his own lasso.

Unfortunately, both victims cried out and the group turned around. Jean ran, the mob chased after him. Erik cocked a pistol and followed the group to an alley, where they cornered Jean.

Erik aimed for one boy in the center, and pulled the trigger. The boy fell to the ground. The other boys turned around to Erik and circled around him.

"Who's this guy?" One asked, pointing at Erik.

"I think this is the guy they've told us to go after; the Phantom," another said, fingering a long chain. The boys took a step towards him, but Erik pulled out the Punjab Lasso.

Smirking, Erik leapt into the air and landed behind another boy (AN: With all that Erik went through, why can't this be one of the many things he learned to do?). Erik strangled the second boy.

When the boy fell down, dead, the others lost all fantasy of catching the Phantom and tried to run.

Jean whistled and gypsy boys tackled the other boys.

"ERIK!!"

Erik turned and saw a rider on horseback. Christine Daae was extremely livid in appearance. She dismounted and cocked her pistol. "I challenge you to a duel."

Erik crossed his arms, his smirk widened behind the mask, "Very unladylike, Mme. Le Vicomtess."

"I will dual you in place of my husband," Christine hissed. She seemed different than the last time they met. There was no trace of his first love anymore; she wasn't weak, but he could tell that she was beyond tears. Erik took out his pistol and he followed Christine to the square where the mob and gypsies were fighting.

"To what extent?"

"To the death," Christine said her blue eyes hard as crystals.

"How many paces?"

"Five."

Erik nodded. The fighting stopped and the bystanders, gypsy or mobster, watched as the duel began.

_Meg's POV_

Incendie was watching the battle outside. "They stopped…oh, there's a duel going on." Curiosity got the better of her and Meg looked outside. She screamed and tried to run outside.

"Ivoire, we have to stay here," Incendie said, grabbing Meg by the arms and shook her. "Ossature will be alright. I've seen it. He will get out all right. Trust me, he'll get out alright. His challenger will get shot in the head the second round."

"For the love of God, Incendie, I hope you're right," Meg said, clinging to Incendie's words.

_Erik's POV_

Erik and Christine stood back to back. Mentally counting to five Erik stepped away from Christine and vice versa. Once he reached five paces away from the starting place, Erik turned, quickly aimed and pulled the trigger with no hesitation.

He cried out and fell back. Touching his shoulder, he felt thick, velvety liquid seep out. Erik growled and stood. Christine was also getting up, clutching her stomach.

_At least it wasn't wasted_, he thought aiming again. He pulled the trigger and instantly clutched his leg. Cursing he looked up at Christine. He could barely see any more. Tearing off his mask, Erik forced himself to stand and aimed again. This time, he waited for Christine to stand again, but she never did.

A boy crept up to Christine's body and felt for her pulse. "Dead, she's dead."

Erik lowered the pistol and looked around. Gypsies raised their weapons in salute.

The mob moved in on Erik, but the gypsies tackled them and Erik noticed that some of these gypsies he never saw before.

"Jean, are these the gypsies you said are too old to fight?"

"Yeah…they weren't too pleased when they caught us fighting them alone. They joined in as soon as they possibly could."

The battle raged on until the sun set and the gypsies drove out half of the mobsters, and killed a fourth, the rest were robbed and taken as prisoners.

Erik headed back to the flat when he was taken aside by an elder Gypsy. "I haven't seen that face in years. So the boy who ran away before dubbed King of the Gypsies comes back a man."

Erik studied the man. His heart sunk. "Olivier?"

"The very same," the man said. "We're just about to head to the pub. I remember that you, even at a young age, you would join us for the heck of it." (AN: Erik wasn't friends with Olivier, he was a Gypsy woman's son who got Erik into lots of trouble in the past. This is something I made up, just complete guesswork! ;P)

"Maybe some other time, I have to get back to Meg," Erik said, pulling away from Olivier and heading back towards the flat..


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: The Gypsy King**

I know: Erik has been getting a little bit out of character, especially toward the end. I'll try to get him back in character, but no guarantees…please review! Been a while since I got one…

_Meg's POV_

Meg lay on the couch, trying to catch her breath and calm her temper. Nothing worked to calm her and when Erik entered she jumped up from the couch and strode over to him, slapping him smartly, his mask falling off, hanging around his neck.

Erik stumbled, but kept his ground, and stared at Meg, regaining from the shock.

"How could you have frightened me like that," Meg shouted her hands resting on her hips. "What in the name of God were you thinking? You could have been arrested! You could have been killed!"

"Ivoire," Incendie cried, trying to console the younger girl.

But Meg ignored Incendie and continued to rant. "Why are you so destructive? Why must you risk your life knowing full well that you might die? Do you not love me? If so, why did you accept the locket? Why?" Meg sat on the couch, trying to calm her bone shaking sobs. Erik sat beside her moments after, and held her close to him.

_Erik's POV_

"I've faced more than guns, Meg. I could list everything I faced that would be worse than that, but it would take days. I'm not going to die that easily. I wished I could in the past, but now I have a reason to live," Erik explained, stroking Meg's ebony locks.

"It doesn't change the fact that you almost died out there today," Meg choked, laying her head on Erik's lap as he moved from her hair to her back, causing shivers to run up her back. "I almost lost you…"

Someone knocked at the door and Erik gave Incendie a pleading look. She strode over to the door and opened it. Erik could hear the conversation clearly.

"I'm sorry, Mssrs Olivier and Armand, but Le Ossature is preoccupied at the moment," Incendie said harshly.

"Bet he is, lucky devil," Armand's voice carried. Armand was a loud boisterous man whom Erik looked at as a father. He was also good with women.

"Mssr. Armand!" Incenie shouted, sounding quite embarrassed at Armand's statement.

"What?"

"Armand…unlike you, Erik is a gentleman. A gypsy, but a gentleman to the end," Olivier lectured.

"Apart from the murders he commited."

"Armand."

"Oi?"

"Shut up!!"

"Monsiers! You cannot come in here!"

"Hell, we can't!"

Erik sighed, but it was expected. Meg had stopped sobbing and was sitting up, leaning against Erik.

Armand came in first, smiling broadly. "Erik! How have you been?" Armand's once golden hair had become silver, but the mischievious grin was apparent as were the crystal blue eyes.

"Sorry, le Ossature. I told them they couldn't come in, but—"

"Quite alright, Incendie," Erik said, waving her off. "What can I do for you gentleman?"

Armand and Olivier looked at eachother and grinned evily. "You're coming with us," they shouted, then grabbed Erik and dragged him off.

"Hey! What in the name of God the Father Almighty are you doing!" Erik shouted, struggling at their attempts, but Erik had forgotten how strong they were.

"He's gotten stronger…" Armand grunted, pulling Erik out of the house. Apparently, they weren't counting on him having being a superb swimmer grin (AN: think about it, Erik had an underground lake. Also, the called refered to one of his traps as _"the siren"_, now the siren was actually Erik swimming around underwater, using his ventriloquism to make people hear _"the siren"_ and hence, fall for the trap in which he would drown them.)

"Fine, get a good hold on his wrists, Armand," Olivier groaned. He stopped pushing and grabbed Erik's ankles. Erik tried to escape and ended up falling on Olivier once he broke hold of Armand. All was silent, except for laughter coming from the living room.

Erik was about to call for help when Armand grabbed his wrists again and the Olivier had grabbed his ankles. They then carried Erik away from the flat all the way to the staircase when Erik finally agreed to cooperate.

_Meg's pov_

Meg and Incendie laughed to their hearts content.

"I see you are better Oviore," Incendie giggled. Meg nodded.

"I haven't laughed that hard since Jammes filled Sorelli's makeup box with worms."

"That doesn't sound ladylike."

"We were very young."

Meg relaxed. "I guess that they couldn't celebrate the victory without Erik."

"Men," Incendie scoffed. "But I can't say that you're not lucky to have Ossature."

Meg glanced at Incendie and studied her expression. Incendie's eyes were glazed over and her mouth was curved in a small, sad smile. "I can't say the same for me. I can't go to him and tell him I love him."

"Tell who?" Meg inquired.

Incendie turned to Meg and blushed. "Saphir."

Meg cocked to her head to the side, slightly confused. "Do you mean Jean?"

Incendie's face flushed and she nodded. "I… loved him since I was a little girl. He always cared for me, and yet, I never found a way to repay him for everything."

Meg embraced Incendie. "It's nerve wrecking at first, believe me. I know. But once you tell him, it can only go on from there."

Incendie looked at the younger girl and tilted her head to the side. "How do you know?"

"How do you think I learned to tell Erik how much I cared for him?"

Incendie closed her eyes and nodded.

_Erik's pov_

_What do these idiots want this time?_

"Come on, Erik, you haven't had whiskey in ages I bet."

"I prefer vinyard now, Armand," Erik said bluntly. Armand was undazed.

"Is there even a difference between whiskey and wine, Erik?" Arnand asked, a sly smile on his face.

"Knowing Erik, he'll be wanting to get back to his cute little lover," Olivier teased. Erik fumed, but not because they were right. They could barely get him out of the flat. But there was another reason he wanted to go back to the flat. The day had been long and he was tired. But he'd have one drink. Just one…

"We're here!" Armand shouted, pushing Erik through the door.

"Just one drink, that is it, then I go home—" Erik started, but was pulled down into a seat, next to Jean.

"Seth! Get us five pints!"

"Four," Erik turned to the speaker, perplexed to see Daroga. "I don't drink beer. I'll have a Vodka, Seth."

Seth nodded. He was a few years younger than Erik, probably thirties or forties. He nodded and came out moments later with the pints and bottle of vodka.

"Here you are, gents," Seth said. There was no possible way that Seth was French. He was burlier than most of them and his accent was crude.

Once Seth was gone, Jean turned to Erik. "He's from London, brought his family here to protect them from the Ripper."

"Ah, yes," Olivier whispered. "The Ripper."

Erik stared at them, wondering who they were talking about. He didn't recall…but then again, he did. Jack the _Ripper_, a serial killer in London that had never been caught.

"Seth's family lived in the area that the murders were happening in. His daughter wasn't a prostitute, neither was his wife, but he feared for them all the same. So he brought them to France to keep them safe. They own this 'pub.' His daughter's quite lovely too," Jean continued, his eyes turned to a young woman serving wine to an elderly couple.

She had chesnut hair that fell in ringlets down her back. Her eyes were golden brown and her skin was freckled. Erik wasn't sure what attracted Jean to the girl, but what ever it was, it was not for him to get involved.

Olivier and Armand exchanged glances. "What about Incendie?" they asked.

Jean turned to them questioningly. "Incendie's my best friend. She's like a sister to me."

Armand sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Jean, you are hopeless. Especially if you harbor feelings for Seth's daughter…what's her name…"

"Caroline," Jean answered, his face was a mask of irritation.

"Yeah."

Erik turned to Daroga, who leaned across the table. "Everyone knows that Incendie loves Jean, but Jean is too preoccupied with Seth's daughter, Caroline, to notice it."

Erik nodded his understanding and turned back to his pint, taking a sip, then gagged. "Maybe I'll just switch to wine."

"Don't be rediculous," Olivier shouted, slapping Erik's back. "You've been around the real theives a little too long."

"Erm…real theives?" Daroga asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The ones who can afford to go to an opera, caviar dining, and all that junk. Compared to them, we're Robin Hood and his band of merry men."

Erik glared at Olivier beneath the mask. "And who would be Robin Hood in this band of misfits, eh?"

"You of course! You are the king of the Gypsies."

"What of Jean?" Erik asked, looking at the boy, who had stopped staring at Caroline and was currently sulking.

"Jean?" Armand asked, also peeking a glance at the teenager. But he was less concious of Jean's demeanor than Erik. "He's a bright lad! He'll be fine!"

Erik resisted the urge to punch Armand. _Idiot, I bet Jean was looked up to until I arrived,_ Erik thought, _How brainless can he be?_

"Well, while we're still on the topic of women, Erik, when do you plan to marry Meg?" Olivier asked.

"We weren't talking about women!" Daroga snapped.

"Sure we were: we were talking about Jean's fascination with Caroline," Armand reminded him. Daroga rubbed his temples, but the conversation continued. "Well, Erik?"

Erik sighed, he wasn't going to get them involved, but he might as well. "I'm not sure yet. I haven't really decided on a date yet."

"You already proposed?" Daroga nearly shouted.

Erik shook his head. "No…she actually proposed to me, come to think of it." Silence followed. Erik wondered what he said to silence his…aquaintences. Olivier and Armand started laughing wholeheartedly, and Daroga snickered into his vodka. Jean just stared at Erik as if he was an unidentified creature or something.

"You were proposed to? Shouldn't that be the other way around?" Jean asked.

"This was why I didn't want anyone to know."

"Embarrassing," Jean smirked. "It's cute, but embarrassing. You'd think you'd be Romeo or something."

Erik put Jean in a headlock. "What was that, you brat?" Erik challenged. Somehow that only made Olivier and Armand laugh harder.

"Let go of me, old man!" Jean yelled back. (AN: see the similarities? Both are tempermental! Whee! If you've seen Inuyasha, think about all the times Inuyasha picks on Shippo, might give you a better picture of what is going on at this time.)

"Nothing really changes, does it Armand?" Olivier asked, watching Jean and Erik fight.

"Nope: he's still the same tempermental, little twerp known as Erik, no matter how much he's grown up."

Erik of course, heard this and attacked Olivier and Armand.

"Gentlemen!" The brawl that was certain to start came to a halt. Erik looked at Caroline and gulped. "If you are going to fight, then I suggest you do so somewhere else. This isn't America."

"Alright, Mademoiselle," Daroga said, pushing Erik, Armand, Jean, and Olivier out the door. With that, they headed back to the flat.

"Whether or not Erik proposed, we'll help get things set up, right Armand?" Olivier asked.

"Of course. Jean?"

"Why not, might be fun. Carressa will be happy, that's for sure."

They looked at Daroga, who shook his head. "Not without Madame Giry's permission."

Erik glanced at Daroga. "Erm…Daroga…if I approach Meg's mother, my head is as good as on a platter."

"Then I won't help. Either you ask for Madame Giry's permission, or this affair will end, Erik."

"It isn't much of an affair—" Erik shot back, but Daroga glared at him, sending chills off the other three's spines. Sometimes it was hard to convince Daroga to change his mind. But when you saw the _eye_, you knew you better do what he said…or else. They didn't say that he had the evil eye for nothing. "Fine, but it'll be Meg you'll have to deal with if I die."

* * *

Sorry it's been taking so long to write this. I've been having some roadblocks in the story, so it's gotten rather lame in my opinion. Let me know-NICELY-if there's any problems with thsi chapter. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Wedding Plans**

_Meg's POV_

Three days later, Meg and Erik were traveling in a wagon pulled by two black mares. In the front was Olivier and Armand. Jean and Carressa were on their own horse and Incendie traveled in the wagon with them, sleeping soundly.

It seemed strange. Going back to Paris after living in Metz for almost a month with Erik. She felt more at peace with him there than at the Opera House. Meg lay her head against Erik's chest and listened to his rhythmic heart beat and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

They were now in traditional gypsy garbs, which Meg took delight in wearing. They were more comfortable and looser than most other clothing that respectable young women were required to wear.

Meg nearly lolled off to sleep when the wagon jolted. Erik woke and grabbed her arms, holding her close to him. Meg looked at him.

His new mask was suitible for the Gypsy King. It was white and covered most of his face, except for his lips and chin. His black hat covered his balding head perfectly and his new leather gloves stopped the stench from reaching her nostrils. The wagon opened and the Paris Police climbed in.

"That man. The one with the mask," one said. "That's the Phantom. Arrest him."

"Your charges are—"

"I know my charges," Erik said, hoisting himself up along with Meg. "Murder of several Parisian residants, damage of property—which, by the way, origonally belongs to me—and blackmail."

The officers looked at each other and shrugged. Erik pushed Meg to the side and reached for his lasso, secured to a hook in his belt.

Meg tensed. She knew what Erik was planning.

_Erik's POV_

There weren't very many of them. It wouldn't take to long to get them out of the wagon. Erik smirked. He was the Gypsy King. He was the leader of this clan.

"Oviture, don't!" Erik was startled when Meg wrapped her arms around him. "Please, my love, don't kill them."

Erik sighed. He just couldn't say no to her. He put the lasso back on the hook, but he wasn't going to let them arrest him so easily.

"Very well, Oviere," he said, understanding why Meg used his Gypsy name. "I'll just get them out."

"Alive?"

"Yes."

The officers advanced, but Erik was able to dodge them with skill. Moments later, he had made a new forest of mirrors out of what he could find. The officers were soon unable to find their way out.

When Erik called out the other men to start pushing the mirrors toward the exit, which none of the officers could see anymore. The "room of mirrors" got smaller and smaller until the officers fell out of the wagon, and it sped down the road.

The Gypsies were shouting with victory, although Jean was disappointed that he didn't get to pick any of the officers' pockets.

Erik sighed and leaned against the wagon's wall.

"Erik," he glanced at Meg. "Thank you…for not killing them."

"I don't see what it proves."

"It proves that you don't have to kill people to be powerful," Meg said, smiling at him. She leaned forward and kissed him gently. Erik answered the kiss…

"Well, before you two love-birds get deeper, I thought you might want to know that we've arrived to Paris!" Armand shouted, smiling deviously. Erik could have liked nothing more than to kill him right then and now.

_Meg's POV_

They exited the wagon and climbed the stairs of the Opera House. In the entrance room, they could hear hurried tapping of feet and Madame Giry scurried down the grand staircase.

"Meg!" she engulfed Meg in a tight hug then pulled back, staring at her attire. "Meg… what are you parading around as? A gypsy?"

"Actually, Mother, yes. I am. The Phantom of the Opera, or the Gypsy King Le Oviture, has asked me for my hand in marriage. And I agreed.

"But, Meg, why would you—"

"Didn't you say that father was several times your senior."

"But he didn't kill people, Meg."

"No. But Erik has protected me with his life. I'm fine being a gypsy for the rest of my life. They don't judge you by how you look. They don't care who you are. They accept Erik as their leader and me as their queen. Erik was right, mother. I would become an Empress. He did keep his promise."

"Meg, why didn't you just tell me?"

Meg was getting iritated. Her mother never listened. Now that she was back, her mother chose to listen full heartedly. "Well, Mama," Meg snapped. "I'll just tell you why I didn't tell you. You never approved of anyone I cared for, even though I only loved Erik. You had me center my life on the dance, without asking what I wanted. Secondly, I didn't know Erik was a Gypsy King until just recently. I never felt so alive in my life until I met the gypsies."

Madame Giry stared at her enraged daughter, shocked.

Erik placed his hands on Meg's shoulders to stop the shaking young woman. "Madame Giry," Erik began. "I truly love your daughter. She was a miracle to me when I thought there was no more hope. Please, I beg you to let me take her as my wife."

Meg stared at Erik, then at her mother. Erik seemed desperate, and her mother blinked in disbelief.

"You want to marry Meg? You mean you never…you never hurt her?"

"I have no reason to."

Meg was silently rooting that her mother would approve. It was only a few seconds, but Meg was holding her breath as if it hoping beyond hope that her mother would let her be with Erik.

"I guess I can't force Meg to do anything I believed she ought to do with her life," Madame Giry looked at Meg and smiled. "Meg, love."

"Yes, Maman?"

"You've grown. Did you not realize? When I saw you last, you were such a scrawny little thing. Now…now you've blossomed into a woman. I'm sad to see you go so soon, but…"

"Maman?" Meg asked, looking at her mother with worry.

"I'm fine, mon chere," Madame Giry said, wiping tears away. "Uh…Monsier le Fantome?"

"Yes, Madame?"

"I can't protect Meg anymore. I leave her in your care."

_Erik's POV_

The wedding was going to begin soon. Gypsies had arrived left and right just to witness the event. There was dancing and drinking and a festival was held in preparation for the wedding.

Erik was waiting, the locket around his neck. The ceremony would begin at sundown.

Erik wondered what would happen to him now. After…what…three, four months…he was getting married to his beloved Meg, the young girl he saw blossom into a young woman over the last several weeks.

He didn't notice it until Madame Giry mentioned it. Meg had indeed bloomed into a young woman. Her bones were hardly visible, fleshed out. Her skin was a little healthier. Her hair had become slightly curly,but not extremely, her black eyes had a glint in them. Her flat chest had filled out at least a little bit, as well as her hips.

She was still pale and skinny though. But that didn't worry him. She was beautiful only for him.

"Erik, it's time."

"You sound like an executioner, Olivier."

"But It's so fun to freak you out."

"I'm not a kid anymore!"

Olivier pouted.

"That look doesn't suit you anymore, Olivier," Erik stated, heading outside to meet his bride to be.


	14. Chapter 14 and Epologue

**Chapter 14**_ and Epologue: The Phantom Lives On_

This chapter is in someone else's POV entirely…just wait and see!

Traveling the streets of Barcelona was interesting, but the Gypsy Prince had been there so many times, that he knew the city by heart. He begged his parents when he was a young man to let them take him to Paris.

Le Scriptor Phasmatis got his name for his love of writing, and who his father, the Gypsy King le Oviture, was once known as. No one knew who he was origonally named by his parents except for them and himself.

"Scriptor!" Incendie shouted, beckoning him from her stand. He did so easily and smiled at his teacher. "Have you seen your mother?"

"No, Incendie, she might be with Father," Scriptor said. Then realized what he just said.

"You are such a teenager," Jean called, laughing madly. Carressa close behind him.

"Jean, there are some men—"

"WHERE ARE THESE SCOUNDRALS? I'LL KILL THEM!!"

"Jean, they want to join the act," Carressa hissed at her brother. Jean smiled sheepishly and went to bring them to Oviture.

Armand and Olivier walked by and Scriptor sat down and rubbed his eyes.

Well, what do you think? Come on! I need reviews. Yes, I know that Erik got a little out of Character, but I guess that you could call it a character development or something. At least, Meg had a character development. It was mainly supposed to be about how Meg went from a girl to a woman and Erik's wife. If you were hoping for some juicy love bits, too bad! Not my style.

He had a tall, lanky build like his father. Black hair, blue eyes and pale skin like his mother, la Oviure.

Scriptor stretched and pulled out a manuscript full of notes. "That your next story?"

"Yeah, I just hope father doesn't see it. I don't want people finding the Phantom of the Opera. I don't want Father to get caught again.

"Scriptor, I can't tell if you're your father's son or your mother's at times."

Scriptor yawned and let Incendie look at it. "Just don't tell Father."

"Right. Who did you interview?"

"Daroga."

"I see. The rest of the information?"

"From Grandmother."

"I see. _Le Fantome de l'Opera_. French?"

"Yes."

"Is this your real name?"

"No. It isn't."

"_Le Fantome de l'Opera, à travers Gaston Leroux._ Ingenious. Is this the name you go by for the stories you write?"

"Yeah, I find it easier to remain inconspicuous using this name."

"I won't tell your parents, so long as I can read it."

"Knock yourself out. I got nothing else to do right now."

"Scriptor, your mother wants you!" Jean called.

Scriptor bolted out of Incendie's tent and ran to his mother.

"Adrien, how are you feeling?"

"Good, Mother, is something wrong?"

"No. No, mon chere. Adrien, your books…"

"You looked at them?!" Adrien hissed harshly, but his face was a pained expression.

"No, I didn't. Nor did your father."

Adrien let his breath rush out.

"We're worried Adrien. What do you write about?"

"Nothing important, Mother. Just petty fantasy stories. Mysteries, actually."

"Adrien," his mother began, but Adrien, or Scriptor, cut her off.

"Mother, I just need you and father to trust me about this."

"We do trust you, Adrien. What worries us is that you work on these stories for days on end. You don't sleep, you don't eat, you do nothing but write and then end up passing out later on."

"I don't see what's so scary about it, Mother. Why worry about my lack of sleep or food."

"Because your father used to do the same thing. He had been writing an Opera for years and he never slept or ate during the times he did write it. Then he would pass out at the oragon and sleep for days on end. Then he would regain his strength and eventually begin composing again. We don't want you to have the same problem as your father, Adrien, please, promise me that you'll get a decent amount of sleep and join us for at least the evening meal every night."

Adrien nodded, hugged his mother and walked headed back to Incendie.

"What was that about?"

"Mother and Father were worried about my health."

"I'm not surprised. Oh."

Adrien looked up and saw his father walk among the crowd. His father always wore a mask and gloves. He never saw what was behind it, but he was told what it was. When he was told, he asked his father what it was like having such a frightening demeanor. His usual tempermental father only squeezed his shoulder and said that it was a blessing and a curse.

Despite the mask, and the gloves, Adrien admired his father. He thought that the world ought to know about the Phantom of the Opera.

"Adrien, it's almost time to start! Open the gates!"

Adrien nodded and did as he was told. Tonight, somehow, he felt he was going to learn more about his parents relationship from Daroga. If he could get the old Persian to talk.

* * *

what do you think? I know: Erik got way out of character, but I guess you can think of it as a character development, although Meg was supposed to be the one with the character developments, because she goes from a little girl to a woman and Erik's wife. If you were hoping for juicy details, sorry! Not my style 


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